Veterans And Rookies
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. When Jazz gets injured, Bumblebee can't help but feel worried. Some blink-and-you'll-miss-it implied slash.


_A/n: I had written this for Purajazzbot (aka Purajo) as part of a series called Trust Issues, though it can stand alone. I'm not sure where you can find the series itself now (it used to be over at Transfictions, but not anymore). However, you might be lucky if you try her LJ page._

_Something else: Since the story corresponds to Purajo's series, I tried to match my writing style with hers. This means the characterizations are rather different (I even have Jazz talk with an accent XD). _

_**Warning**__: __There's also some mildly implied slash (since there was some slash in the series as well), so consider yourselves warned and read further at your discretion._

_---------------------------_

"You can always sit down, you know."

Bumblebee stopped in his tracks and looked in the direction of Mirage. The former aristocrat was sitting calmly on a chair nearby, keeping his head bowed.

"You can always show a little more concern," Bumblebee replied, more harshly than he intended. "It's Jazz we're talking about."

"Exactly," Mirage said and lifted his gaze slightly. "Everything will be fine."

Bumblebee opened his mouth to tell the spy off, but no word came out of his vocalizer. He remained like that for several moments, until he finally sighed and sat on a chair across Mirage.

"How can you be so sure?" the minibot asked.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Mirage's lip components. "Because I have faith in him, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee frowned. "Are you saying I don't?" he asked, confused.

"No," Mirage said with a shake of his head. "I'm saying you haven't seen him get through worse than this yet."

Bumblebee's optics widened. Before realising it, the yellow minibot reached for one of Mirage's hands, clasping it tightly.

"Were you just as scared when you first saw him injured?" he asked softly.

Mirage accepted the minibot's gesture of companionship, rubbing the other's knuckles gently. His cobalt gaze became distant as he got lost in the memory of his earlier days in Special Ops.

"In many ways, I was even more frightened," he replied. "I didn't have anyone by my side to help me overcome my panic back then."

Bumblebee winced when he realised what Mirage told him. "I'm sorry."

Mirage shrugged and pulled himself away from Bumblebee's grasp. "Not your fault. If anything, it helped me build the kind of character I never had as a Towers' resident."

Bumblebee nodded his understanding. Still, he was sure that the spy played down matters significantly. Though a _former_ aristocrat, Mirage was as proud as any bot of his circle, and his pride made him feel miffed at any bot that showed him anything resembling pity. The fact that he opened up even that much in front of Bumblebee showed just how much the spy trusted the minibot.

"Do you ever miss your old life?" Bumblebee asked.

If Mirage ever meant to answer, he didn't get the chance. The sound of a door hissing open made both bots turn around, and they both stood up when they saw Ratchet walking out of the repair-bay. The medic looked tired, but he was smiling nonetheless.

"Well, Ratchet?" Mirage asked, regarding Ratchet curiously. He kept his tone neutral, not wishing to show any kind of impatience. Bumblebee, on the other hand, could hardly stand still, wringing his hands in a nervous manner.

Ratchet didn't answer, at least not in words. He pointed with his thumb at the direction of the door. The agents didn't know what to make of that at first, but then they distinctly heard music.

Bumblebee couldn't help but sigh inwardly in relief. If Jazz could play music, it meant good news for sure.

"Thanks, Ratchet," Bumblebee said, a smile brightening his features.

"No thanks needed. Primus likes your captain a lot, that's all," the medic said. His smile vanished, however, and he practically towered over Mirage and Bumblebee as he glared at them, hands resting on his hips. "But if he ever pulls another foolish stunt like thatagain, even Primus won't save him from _my _hands. Is that clear?"

It took a lot to intimidate a couple of Special Ops agents, true; but at that moment Ratchet was downright terrifying. Both Mirage and Bumblebee nodded meekly, knowing better than to provoke Ratchet any further. They learnt that the medic showed his care about his patients in a very, _very _unconventional way a long time ago.

"Good," Ratchet replied, happy that he got his point across. "He asked for you two, by the way. You can see him, but you'll have to go one at a time. He's supposedto be resting."

"Understood," Mirage replied. "We won't stay longer than five minutes."

"You'd better. I'll be keeping time," Ratchet stated in a matter-of-fact tone, then headed to his office next door. Bumblebee and Mirage watched him go and, as soon as the door hissed closed, they exchanged a glance, the same question reflected in their optics.

_Who should go first?_

Mirage proved faster in his answer. He smiled and patted Bumblebee's shoulder.

"You go," he said kindly. "You'll feel more at ease once you see him."

Bumblebee looked up at the spy, his optics reflecting his gratitude. "Thanks, Mirage."

Mirage smiled. "Just go in. You don't keep a captain waiting."

"Oh, right," the minibot exclaimed, remembering himself. After nodding his thanks to Mirage once more, Bumblebee pressed the enter button and walked inside the repair-bay.

It didn't take Bumblebee long to find Jazz at the other side of the room. The saboteur was sitting upright on a berth, half of his torso and his left leg coloured grey. It was obvious Ratchet had to use some spare parts in order to fix Jazz, something that didn't surprise the minibot in the least. The explosion in which Jazz had gotten caught was more than just bad.

Jazz didn't seem troubled in the least though. In fact, he was smiling, swaying his head gently to the rhythm of the music. His optics - free from the visor that almost always concealed them - were closed too, and he didn't give the impression that he noticed Bumblebee coming in.

Bumblebee soon found out he was wrong in his assumptions when Jazz opened his optics and looked at him. The saboteur's smile broadened subtly, but quite visibly.

"Hey, li'l 'Bee. Welcome t'my temporary abode," he said in a cheerful tone. "I'd offer ya some energon, but the doc would kill me for offerin' ya his secret stash."

Bumblebee chuckled, accepting his captain's humour graciously, but his smile couldn't reach his audios. He unwittingly kept staring at the grey parts that marred Jazz's usual black and white form.

Bumblebee's wince must have been evident, because Jazz's smile slipped somewhat. His expression became softer, kinder, even reassuring.

"It ain't that bad, li'l 'Bee," he said gently. "I had worse. Mirage could tell ya all kinds o' stories."

"Yeah, he said something like that," Bumblebee replied. He shook his head and sat on the chair that was located next to the berth. "That doesn't mean I have to like it. You got half your body blown apart, for Primus's sake!"

"Nobody's askin' ya to," Jazz said. "And as for gettin' blown apart, it goes with the Special Ops territory. Sometimes ya win some, sometimes ya lose some."

"You still shouldn't be here," Bumblebee argued, a rueful tone ringing in his words. "I mean, you're our captain, the best at your job, and the most experienced of us three. If anyone should be lying on this berth, it's me."

"Why would ya want ta think that?" Jazz asked, raising an optic ridge. "Just because you're the rookie?"

Bumblebee nodded slowly. The minibot heard Jazz sigh at that but, surprisingly, the saboteur didn't seem angry or upset.

"'Bee," Jazz said, "Bein' more experienced doesn't make me infallible or invulnerable. Sure, I make fewer mistakes than I used to. It's jus' that, when I make 'm, I make 'm big time and, well… ya can see the results for yerself."

Bumblebee listened to Jazz carefully, taking in every word of the saboteur's. He knew Jazz was right, but he still couldn't shake off that nagging feeling that gnawed on his mind ever since he saw Jazz hurt.

"And what if a mistake proves fatal?" he asked, his voice barely a murmur.

Jazz reached for Bumblebee and placed both hands on the minibot's shoulders.

"Why don't ya worry about that when the time comes, okay?"

Bumblebee looked at the saboteur straight in the optic, noting the confidence reflected in there. And the minibot realised that he could worry about his and his companions' future all he liked. In the end though, they were nothing but bots, doing all that they could to bring this stupid war to an end, so that one day they could return Cybertron to its former glory; if not for themselves, at least for the next generation of bots that was to come. Bumblebee just had to trust fate, Primus, or whatever it was that guided their lives, that that would be enough.

"Okay," he answered, a genuine smile tugging on his lip components at last. At the next moment, however, he remembered himself and stood up. "I should go. Mirage is waiting outside too."

"Sure thing," Jazz said, nodding his understanding. A smirk formed on his lip components and his optics flickered in tease. "Say 'Hi' t'Beachcomber for me."

"Of course," Bumblebee replied, playing along. But just as he was about to exit, he stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Jazz curiously.

"Um… Jazz?"

"Yeah, li'l 'Bee?" the saboteur answered.

"Why do I get the feeling you had this sort of conversation before?"

Jazz chuckled, his laughter far more musical than the song he was playing. "Because I did. Back on my first days in Special Ops, in fact," he answered. "Except _I_ was the one that needed that sort o' pep talk, an' one o' my ol' teammates was kind enough ta offer it ta me."

"Oh." Bumblebee winced and scratched his head embarrassedly. "I guess all rookies are the same, huh?"

"Yup. But, then again…" Jazz replied with a wink, "…That's why there are veterans around."

**The End**


End file.
